Jesu’s blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries.
With much difficulty he responded :—
Mercy’s full power I soon shall prove,
Loved with an everlasting love.
“If Jesus is very present with thee lift thy right hand,” said his wife, as she bent over him He raised it Waiting a moment or two she said, “If the prospect of glory opens before thee, repeat the sign.” Twice he lifted that feeble right hand in testimony, then fell into coma, lying with his eyes open and fixed.
While this was taking place in the Vicarage the church close by was the scene of many tears Fletcher’s people gathered there from time to time to pour out their supplications to God that He would spare their beloved pastor; but none could find it in his heart to lead a service, or raise a hymn.
In the cottages whole families sat waiting for news, while messengers, who went to and from the Vicarage, were waylaid on every side for tidings of joy or sorrow.
Numbers of poor villagers were wont to come from a distance every Sunday, being entertained in their Vicar’s kitchen between the services. These lingered about the house in distress, unable to persuade themselves to seek their distant homes while one so dear to them lay probably dying.
“If we could only look at him once more!” they whispered pleadingly.
Accordingly the door of the sick room was flung wide, the curtains drawn back from the bed, and this infinitely pathetic procession of peasants crept softly past the open door, each one pausing for a long look of love upon him whom they revered as spiritual father and saint.
For the first time in their experience there was no kindling light in his eye, no gleam of welcome from the lips which had so often parted in smiles and blessing His spirit hovered on the borders of a land beyond their reach.